


the introduction of Emily Kaldwin

by anelusiveblep



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Confession, Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy, Serious Relationship Discussions, corvo has anxiety, only a little, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 04:00:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13779210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anelusiveblep/pseuds/anelusiveblep
Summary: “I'm pregnant. You are to be a father.”It's a very good thing that he's sitting.





	the introduction of Emily Kaldwin

**Author's Note:**

> i havent looked at or edited this in months so sorry in advance
> 
> shoutout to @matredaen and @ominousdeer on tumblr for being my main inspiration for anything.... ever
> 
> corvo has anxiety (relatable)

“I'm pregnant. You are to be a father.”

 

Her delivery is flat, poignant. She does not bother softening the blow or dancing around the issue. She merely sits him down on the edge of the bed and says it. Corvo is glad for this; having any kind of lead up to it would give him time for his mind to wander to terribly dark scenarios...but none as bad as this. The words echo in his ears for a moment, hollow, and he swears he can hear her repeating the fact over and over, her voice growing more muffled and distorted, but he can see her lips aren't moving. Her face is as blank as it is when she listens to complaints at meetings with her advisors and it's the first time in a long time he has actually felt scared in her presence--his heart seems to clench and cement in his chest, restricting his breathing, sending a jolt of electricity down his core that pulls his shoulders together and stiffens his whole body. 

 

It's a very good thing that he's sitting. 

 

Moments pass before he's able to catch his breath. He cannot recall when he started panting, but it sounds like he just ran a marathon. Jessamine waits ever-patient in front of him, clad in nothing but a pair of slippers and long-sleeved slip. She just had a bath then; her hair is still wet and hangs as heavy and straight as a velvet curtain down behind her shoulders, and her arms are crossed over her chest. On defense. If he looks closely, he can see her nerves showing where he knows others cant--her jaw is clenched, nostrils flared, more white in her eyes than blue. Not angry, but scared. 

 

Corvo has to look towards his knees and away from her lest he lose every last bit of nerve that is keeping him from falling apart. 

 

“Corvo…” her voice is soft, softer than he thought it would be, but there's still an edge--still a piece of the Empress protecting the Jessamine that's underneath. Hearing his name strikes another chord through him, another jolt of pure fear. Everything in him is screaming for him to run, but his body is paralyzed utterly and completely. 

 

He braces himself for the impact to come.  _ This is it, _ he thinks,  _ this is the end. I will be hanged for this, once word gets out. She will dismiss me. Send me away, if she wishes to spare me from the noose--but why would she? I've sullied her honor.  _ The words run through his head before he can stop them, and he finds his breath shallow and quick before he can control it, his hands shake on his knees and if he looks up at her, he knows she will see the white of his eyes and the panic clear on his face.

 

In another life, this would have been the best news. In a life where he and Jessamine could be openly together, hold hands in public and not have to shy around behind everyone's backs, this would be the most incredible moment of his life--but here? Now? Where he, the Empresses’ secret lover, was now responsible for getting her  _ pregnant _ ? The fear was all consuming and any trace of happiness that was there was masked by Jessamine’s silent presence in front of him, and the ever lingering thought that he might at some point overstay his welcome in her bed no matter how many times she assured him otherwise. 

 

More So than losing his life or his position was the fear of losing  _ her _ . How many times had they laid together, sharing a bed and sharing breaths, confessing their love to one another? How many times had he told her that she wasn't forcing him to stay? How many times had she assured him of her love for him? The thought of losing it all over what should have been a happy occasion was crippling, and the carpet beneath him started to blur from the tears flooding his eyes. 

 

She whispers his name again almost imperceptibly. 

 

With resignation, he holds both of his trembling hands out to her.

 

His heart pounds in his ears, and his strong arms shake with uncertainty for the few moments of silence that stretch between them, as deep as the void and as long as eternity until he feels her hands slide onto his open palms. It's more than he can take, and a ragged sob leaves his throat while the tears finally break and run down his cheeks. 

 

He cannot be sure that this is acceptance, or happiness, or any admission of her feelings, but just feeling her hands in his lets his heart ease with only the slightest amount of relief. Whether or not the love of his life decides to keep him, to keep their child, she at least cares for (or pities) him enough to offer him this briefest comfort. He rubs his thumbs along her knuckles and can't tell if her hands are shaking too, or if it's only his. 

 

She shuffles closer to him. Though they've been much closer that this, his breath hitches with anticipation and the ever-lingering fear of her rejection. Their relationship is still new and unsure, and now this? It could break them. 

 

He wants to believe that Jessamine would not go back on her constant promises and leave him, but there’s always a ‘but’--always an exception to the rule, an outrageous circumstance that changes the status quo, and Corvo thinks that the young,  _ unmarried _ Empress of the Isles mysteriously falling pregnant--while rumors fly about her foreign and unliked Lord Protector sharing her bed--might just change things.

 

He cannot look up at her. She pulls closer and squeezes his hands, but he cannot bear to meet her eyes and see the  _ pity _ there. Cannot look up for fear that it would be the last time he could look at her in their relationship. 

 

She removes her hands from his, and it's a heartstopping moment before she runs her fingers through his hair and pulls her head against her bosom. Her chin rests atop his head, and--he’s sure now--she's trembling like the last blade of grass alone and surrounded by winter winds. Tentatively he wraps his arms around her waist, waiting for any slight movement that might indicate her discomfort. It doesn't come. He gives her a gentle squeeze, furrows his eyebrows, buries his face in her gown and inhales the sweet scent of her clean skin for what could be the last time. 

 

It feels like ages that they hold like that, but only the merest minutes pass until Jessamine untangles herself from him and touches his chin. His will is no match for her delicate but firm touch, and like a sunflower drawn to the sun he cannot help but crane his neck up to meet her gaze. Seeing her face red and tear-stained is a rare occurrence, but she's here now and though her eyes are rimmed with blotchy redness, a wavering smile plays at the edge of her lips.

 

Corvo doesn't want to believe that he doesn't see pity. Searches for it under the guise of joy, but he cannot deny the pure and utter relief on her face. 

 

Terror still wracks his body, but the first tendrils of hope start to shine through the cracks. She cups his face in her hands and kisses his forehead, runs her fingers through his thick hair, touches her forehead to his and smiles wide with tears still pouring from her eyes. She's scared, perhaps as scared as he is, but she's happy. Well and truly happy, even in the most outrageous of circumstances. His heart tightens in his chest and all he can think of now is how much he loves this woman, her strength of character and her stubbornness, the tenderness that only he gets to see, her filthy jokes and wry smirks, every aspect of her that makes her more than the Empress--the aspects that make her Jessamine. He was never one to imagine children, but her soft hands on his cheeks and the warmth of her so close seals the deal for the last time. A long, shaky sigh slips out from his chest and he rubs his hands on her back in small circles more to soothe himself than to soothe her. She reaches down to touch his thigh and sits down on his lap so she can press close to him, and he leans into her touch like he's starved for it. Corvo closes his eyes and when he breathes out again his sigh doesn't waver and shake. He touches his nose to hers, squeezes her a little closer, hoping beyond hope that this--her apparent acceptance--is real and not just a panic attack induced fever dream. When she tilts his head up and presses her lips against his he knows without a doubt that it's real. He's dreamed of her kisses hundreds of times before, but nothing could compare to the genuine feeling of her soft lips moving against his. 

 

They kiss until Corvo has to wrench away from her to catch his breath, and when she giggles he allows himself the barest of smiles, finally summoning the courage to meet her eyes. 

 

“Corvo, we’re going to have a baby,” she whispers, “ _ I'm  _ going to have  _ your  _ baby.” her broad grin says everything, and he can't even react before she closes the distance again to kiss him much more urgently than before. Her hands clutch whatever parts of him she can reach and she has to break away from the kiss all too frequently because her smile is so pervasive, and so infectious. Corvo smiles so hard his jaw almost aches with it; his face suddenly feels too small for how wide he wants to grin at their joy. Their teeth knock together when they try to kiss and both of them finally laugh against each other's mouths, finally losing the anxiety and uncertainty of the other’s unknown reaction. 

 

With a swift, fluid movement, Corvo grips her tight and falls back onto the bed, pulling her down across his stomach with her legs on either side of him. She gasps, giggles, and returns to administering tiny kisses wherever she can reach; his forehead, cheeks, mouth, chin, jaw, all while she strokes the hair back from his head. Her body is so warm, pressed against him like this--and now, he thinks, there's almost a third one there with them, the merest potential tucked away between their forms. The thought is enough to bring the tears back to his eyes, and he chokes out a tiny sob with Jessamine’s mouth on his, cups her cheeks and kisses her with such an intense love so as not to let her question that he’s crying from anything but happiness.

 

She rolls off of him and settles in beside him as she always does, her hands folded in against his chest and her thigh edging it's was between his; it's hard for Corvo not to marvel at the way she fits against him, like every curve and contour of her body was crafted for his. Her head fits neatly against the crook of his neck where she plants little kisses along his throat and jaw, giggling ever so slightly and making content noises wherever her lips press. 

 

He wants to say something, but his breath hitches in his throat. His body still seems to want to weep, the cries competing for release with the words he longs so desperately to ask her. “Jessamine,” he says, and his voice sounds so raspy and foreign as to almost not be his own, “do you want this?” 

 

Her breath ends in a sharp hiss, and he cringes with immediate regret. It doesn't sound wonderful, but it needs to be asked. He needs to know.

 

She shifts beside him and sits back up on the bed, her eyes intent and a little sad. “I've thought about it a lot,” she admits. “And I do. I wouldn't want this with anyone else. I'm in need of an heir, and I've dreamed of having a family with you.” A wry smirk twists her mouth, “although I don't relish what this will do for the rumours circling about our….relationship.” she traces tiny circles about the buttons of his overcoat and searches his face intently. There's none of the ‘Empress’, cold and strict, remaining in her expression; Her eyes are bright, curious, intense, and the set of her jaw belies her stubbornness. Underneath that though, Corvo can see that there's some residual fear--unsurety, perhaps a small bit of insecurity. He doesn't blame her. He can feel the wing beats of a thousand hummingbirds barraging his ribs from the inside. Through the anxiety he's able to give her what he hopes looks like a reassuring smile as he pushes himself up and holds her hand.

 

“My love, whate--"

 

“Corvo I swear on the Outsider's  _ ass,  _ if you simply say ‘whatever you desire, my opinion doesn't matter, it's entirely your choice, my words mean nothing’ or anything of that sort I may be forced to reprimand you harshly.” 

 

Corvo closes his mouth quickly, licks his lips, and finally hangs his head--she took the words right out of his mouth. 

 

“Please Corvo, just tell me honestly what  _ you _ want.” 

 

Her gaze is so earnest and pleading that it stops him momentarily. He could never tell her what to do with her body or her reign as Empress, but an unexpected pregnancy with a secret relationship would have its fair share of complications. She needed an heir to be sure, but the presence of a bastard child could cause her dissenters to gain a stronger foothold, usurp her rule, exploit a weakness. It was a risk. 

 

But a chance to have a family? He had given that up when he realized he was in love with Jessamine. He had always known that nothing long lasting or permanent could come from this situation, that he would love her until his dying days even if she married and had children with someone else but this was...well, everything he could have hoped for. Nothing is more permanent than a child. 

 

It said something else too--if she  _ wanted _ his child, it would have to mean that she truly loved him. He didn't doubt her when she told him she loved him over and over again, every day and almost every hour, but there was always that lingering knowledge that perhaps a closeted relationship would not last. Gazing into her eyes, so much more blue now that tears had reddened her cheeks and eyelids, he loses every ounce of defense he could have hoped to mount had he truly had anything to argue. He returns her worried gaze with a smile and squeezes her hand. 

 

“It's your choice, my love--" he holds up a hand to stop her when she opens her mouth to reprimand him, “but I would be lying if I said I hadn't dreamed…” Corvo’s voice cracks as he feels new tears well up and threaten to wet his cheeks again. He takes a deep breath, and says, “I've dreamed of this, of. Of having a family with you.” his throat closes and it's a few moments before he can speak again. “I love you, Jessamine, but I would not want you to make a permanent decision like this based on my feelings.”

 

“You silly man,” she says, “you  _ unbelievably _ silly man. I know this is my choice.” she pulls his hands towards her, gravitates forward to kiss him long, gentle, and slow. Her mouth is warm on his, her kiss so insistent and confident that Corvo momentarily forgets where he is to lose himself in her taste and the warmth of her body so close to his. When she pulls away she is touching his cheek and he's so lost in her that his eyes stay closed a moment and he follows her with his mouth before ever so reluctantly letting her go. He almost moans when she pecks him again and quickly pulls away--she always wants to tease him. 

 

He opens his eyes and she's falling back to the bed, pulling him with her. Before he can close his mouth over hers again, she places a hand on his chest and pushes her hand through his thick curls, whispers into his lips,

 

“My love, you're going to make a wonderful father.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> im really sick of dishonored fiction depicting jessamine as a cruel witch or blaming corvo for her pregnancy and being angry, because. come on let them be a happy loving family


End file.
